Chapter 38: The Old King's Fear and the Council of Heirs (Great Council of 101 AC: Part 1)
The long, peaceful reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator, a golden autumn for the Seven Kingdoms after the fiery summer of the Conquest and the brutal winter of Maegor's tyranny, was drawing to a close. Nearly six decades had passed since Aegon I had first set foot on the shores of Blackwater Bay. The Old King, as Jaehaerys was now known, was a man stooped by age and sorrow, his once keen mind clouded by grief, his strong Valyrian frame frail. Queen Alysanne, his beloved sister-wife and wisest counselor, had preceded him to the grave the year prior, leaving him adrift in a sea of dynastic uncertainty.
The latest blow had been the most crushing: the unexpected death of his chosen heir, his capable and beloved son, Baelon the Spring Prince, taken by a burst belly in 101 AC. Baelon's elder brother, Aemon, had died years before in 92 AC on Tarth, and Jaehaerys, in a decision that had sown the first seeds of future discord, had named Baelon as Prince of Dragonstone over Aemon's own daughter, Rhaenys Targaryen. Now, with Baelon gone, the line of succession was dangerously unclear. Rhaenys, "The Queen Who Never Was," and her ambitious husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, pressed the claim of their son, Laenor Velaryon. But Baelon had also left sons, Viserys and Daemon Targaryen, and many lords favored the male line. Fearful of a devastating war of succession that could unravel all he had so painstakingly built, the Old King, in his fading wisdom, decreed that a Great Council would be convened at Harrenhal to choose his successor.
News of the impending council reached Skagos via raven from Winterfell, addressed to Lord Rickard Volmark, Aelyx Velaryon's great-great-great-grandson, the current public face of their ancient, hidden lineage. Lord Rickard, a man in his early fifties, with the characteristic violet eyes of his line but the dark, weathered look of a true Northman, governed Skagos with the quiet competence and immense wealth that the North had come to expect from House Volmark. The "Heir's Hoard" gold mine, after nearly a century, still poured forth its bounty, a testament to the "blessings of the Old Gods" upon their house.
Within the obsidian council chamber of Mount Skatus, however, the news was received not by Lord Rickard, but by his immortal ancestor, Aelyx, the Shadow King, flanked by Lyanna and their now truly ancient (by mortal standards, though eternally youthful in appearance) direct children. Generations of their descendants – grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even the first of their great-great-grandchildren who were now young adults – filled the vast chamber, their faces reflecting a sober understanding of the gravity of events in the south.
"A Great Council," Aelyx mused, his voice a low rumble that held the weight of centuries. A magically projected map of Westeros glowed before them, Harrenhal a pulsating point of light. "An unprecedented event. Jaehaerys seeks to avert war by… committee. A fascinating, if potentially flawed, exercise in statecraft. The Targaryen dynasty, for all its draconic might, reveals its vulnerability – the perennial curse of succession."
Lyanna, her Stark pragmatism ever a grounding force, added, "It will be a viper's nest of ambition, my love. Every great house will seek to advance its own interests, to curry favor with the likely candidates. The stability of the realm hangs in the balance."
"Indeed," Aelyx agreed. "And where there is instability, there is opportunity – for observation, for understanding, and perhaps, for subtle influence, should it serve our long-term interests. Lord Rickard Volmark," he said, his gaze falling upon his public descendant who had been summoned to the sanctuary for this briefing, "you will attend this Great Council. You will travel with the Warden of the North, Lord Ellard Stark. Your voice will be that of a prominent, loyal Northern vassal. Your eyes and ears, however, will be mine."
The Volmark delegation to Harrenhal was prepared with meticulous care. Lord Rickard, a man of quiet dignity and proven administrative skill, was chosen to lead it. He was accompanied by a retinue of fifty impeccably armed and armored Skagosi guards, their discipline a silent testament to Volmark strength. His personal household included several glamoured house-elves, among them a very senior Tibbit (appearing as 'Master Alaric,' Rickard's aged and learned counselor) and Mipsy (as 'Dame Myra,' his discreet and efficient head steward). Their true purpose was to be Aelyx's direct conduits, their senses magically linked to his, their ability to move unseen and unheard invaluable for intelligence gathering within the teeming, chaotic confines of Harrenhal.
Aelyx himself would not, of course, attend. His eternal youth, his Valyrian features identical to those of the first Lord Volmark who had "died" nearly a century ago, would be an unexplainable anomaly. Instead, he would experience the Great Council vicariously, through Rickard's reports, through the constant stream of information from his house-elf agents, and through the focused greensight of Lyra and Daenys, who would attempt to pierce the veils of intrigue and prophecy surrounding the event.
The journey to Harrenhal was long, but the Volmark party traveled in a style befitting their immense wealth, their coffers (publicly attributed to Skagosi gold, privately to Aelyx's Philosopher's Stone) allowing for comfortable lodging and impressive equipage, though carefully curated not to appear overly ostentatious by southern standards. They joined Lord Ellard Stark's substantial Northern delegation at the Trident, and together, the wolves of the North made their way to the monstrous, cursed ruin that was Harrenhal.
The sight that greeted them was unlike anything seen in Westeros before. Harrenhal, even in its blackened, melted state, was vast enough to accommodate the thousands of lords, knights, maesters, servants, and hangers-on who had flocked from every corner of the realm. A veritable city of tents and pavilions had sprung up around its five gargantuan, fire-scarred towers. Banners of a hundred noble houses flapped in the wind, a riot of color and ambition. The air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke, roasting meat, horses, and the almost palpable miasma of political intrigue.
Aelyx, observing through Rickard's eyes and the senses of his house-elves, absorbed every detail. He noted the hierarchies, the subtle alliances forming and breaking, the hushed Aelyx's analysis of the claimants and their factions:
From the sanctuary, Aelyx receives constant updates. He analyzes the strengths and weaknesses of Viserys and Laenor (and their key supporters like Corlys Velaryon for Laenor).
He's interested in their personalities, their likely policies, their potential impact on the stability of the realm, and how their rule might affect the North and, by extension, Skagos.
He's not looking to directly interfere or pick a side publicly, but to understand the dynamics and prepare for the outcome. His primary goal is a stable realm that leaves the North (and Skagos) alone.
The gathering at Harrenhal:
Describe Harrenhal, still a ruin but now a vast gathering place. The sheer number of lords, knights, maesters, and their retinues.
The atmosphere: tense, politically charged, full of intrigue, lobbying, and rumor-mongering.
Introduce the main claimants (or their proponents) who will be discussed:
Viserys Targaryen: Son of Baelon and Alyssa, grandson of Jaehaerys. Seen as the male-line primogeniture candidate favored by Baelon and many lords.
Laenor Velaryon: Son of Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Aemon, Jaehaerys's eldest son) and Corlys Velaryon. Represents the claim through the elder line, albeit through a female. His Velaryon heritage (another Valyrian house, though without dragons at this point publicly) might be of interest to Aelyx.
Other minor claimants might be mentioned briefly but dismissed.
The arguments for each side starting to form.
The Volmark delegation established themselves in a modest but well-appointed section of the Northern encampment, their dark grey and sea-green banners a distinct, respected presence. Lord Rickard Volmark, acting on Aelyx's precise instructions, maintained a dignified, observant neutrality, aligning himself publicly with Lord Stark's pronouncements while his hidden agents fanned out through Harrenhal's sprawling labyrinth.
The two main claimants quickly emerged from the pack of hopefuls. Prince Viserys Targaryen, eldest son of the late Prince Baelon, was a man of amiable, if somewhat conventional, disposition. He was seen by many as the natural heir, following the precedent Jaehaerys himself had set when choosing Baelon over Rhaenys. His claim rested on male-line primogeniture and the expressed will of his father and grandfather. He was supported by many of the great lords who valued stability and tradition.
His chief rival was young Laenor Velaryon, the son of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon. Rhaenys, the "Queen Who Never Was," was the daughter of Jaehaerys's eldest son, Aemon, and her claim, through absolute primogeniture, was strong. Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake, a man of immense wealth, ambition, and naval power, was a formidable advocate for his son. The Velaryons, like the Targaryens, were of Valyrian blood, though they had not been dragonlords for centuries (a public fact that Aelyx knew to be more complex, suspecting, correctly, that some Valyrian houses might have retained hidden lore or artifacts). Laenor himself was a handsome, spirited youth, and importantly, a dragonrider, his mount the magnificent Seasmoke. This last fact gave his claim a potent, tangible weight in an age still dominated by dragonpower.
Aelyx, receiving reports from Tibbit and Rickard, analyzed the two main factions with keen interest. "Viserys represents continuity, stability, the path of least resistance for most lords," he dictated to Lyra, who transcribed his thoughts into the sanctuary's great ledger of observations on the outside world. "He is unlikely to be a radical or a tyrant. His reign would likely mean continued peace, which serves our interests by allowing the North, and therefore Skagos, to remain largely undisturbed."
"Laenor, however," Aelyx continued, his mental voice thoughtful, "presents a more… complex equation. His claim through Rhaenys is arguably stronger by strict Valyrian succession laws, which did not always favor the male line as absolutely as Andal custom does. His Velaryon blood, his father's immense wealth and ambition, and his status as a dragonrider make him a more dynamic, perhaps more unpredictable, potential king. A Velaryon on the Iron Throne… that would certainly shift the balance of power among the surviving Valyrian houses." Aelyx allowed a rare, almost imperceptible smile. He had no intention of revealing his own house's true Valyrian dragonlord status, but the thought of another, lesser Valyrian house ascending so high was… amusing.
He instructed Rickard Volmark to subtly cultivate channels of information with both camps, not to offer support, but to gather intelligence on their core policies, their key backers, and their private views on the North and its powerful, wealthy vassals like House Volmark. The gold of Skagos, even presented discreetly, could open many doors and loosen many tongues in the heady, rumor-filled atmosphere of Harrenhal.
The Great Council was formally opened by the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower, as King Jaehaerys was too frail to preside himself, though his presence loomed over the proceedings from his closely guarded chambers within Harrenhal's King's Ire Tower. Ser Otto, a man of shrewd intellect and subtle ambition, laid out the rules of deliberation. Each claimant with a plausible lineage would be allowed to present their case. The assembled lords, from the greatest paramounts to the landed knights, would then deliberate, their opinions sought, though the final decision, it was understood, would be heavily influenced by the sentiment of the most powerful houses and, ultimately, sanctioned by the Old King.
The initial days were filled with the formal presentation of claims. Fourteen claimants, in total, had their names put forth, though most were quickly dismissed as fanciful or irrelevant. The arguments for Prince Viserys centered on male primogeniture, precedent, and the desire for a smooth, uncontroversial succession. He was portrayed as a steady hand, a man who would uphold his grandfather's peaceful legacy.
The case for Laenor Velaryon, eloquently presented by Lord Corlys Velaryon himself, was more passionate, more radical. The Sea Snake spoke of the rights of the elder line, of Princess Rhaenys's unjustly overlooked claim, of his son's Valyrian blood, his dragon, and the strength and wealth House Velaryon would bring to the throne. He hinted that to bypass Laenor would be to store up resentment and future conflict. His words resonated with those lords who felt Jaehaerys had erred in bypassing Rhaenys, and with those who saw an opportunity to align themselves with the rising power of the Velaryons.
Aelyx, through his conduits, observed the subtle shifts in allegiance, the private promises being made, the gold changing hands in shadowed alcoves. He noted the influence of the great lords: Lord Boremund Baratheon of Storm's End, a staunch supporter of Rhaenys and her line; the Lannisters, cautiously leaning towards Viserys for stability; the Tyrells, likewise. Lord Ellard Stark of Winterfell, after consulting with his principal banner_men_ including Rickard Volmark, declared the North's inclination towards Prince Viserys, citing the King's previous naming of Baelon (Viserys's father) as heir as a guiding principle, and the general Northern preference for unambiguous male succession to avoid future strife. This was in line with Aelyx's subtle guidance to Rickard: support the candidate most likely to ensure a peaceful transition and continued Targaryen stability, thereby keeping the Iron Throne's gaze far from Skagos.
The lobbying intensified. Harrenhal's vast, ruinous halls became a marketplace of political favors. Suppers were hosted, alliances forged and broken, promises of future positions and royal patronage exchanged. The sheer scale of it, the raw, naked ambition on display, was a fascinating microcosm of mortal power struggles for Aelyx. He saw echoes of Valyria's own fatal internal politics, though on a less magically cataclysmic scale.
Lyra and Daenys, in the sanctuary, focused their greensight, trying to discern the final outcome. Their visions were a confusing whirl of smoke, crowns, and dragons, but a recurring image began to emerge: a crowned Viserys, but also a future shadowed by a younger, more turbulent dragon, and whispers of a dance… a dance of death.
"The council will choose Viserys, Father," Lyra reported, her voice strained. "It is the path of apparent peace. But the choice… it will not settle all grievances. The Sea Snake's ambition is a fire banked, not extinguished. And there are other currents, other claimants, whose lines will not forget."
Aelyx nodded. "Peace is often but the interval between wars, my daughter. Our task is to ensure that when those future wars come, Skagos remains untouched, its strength preserved, its secrets inviolate."
As the first part of the Great Council drew to a close, with the main arguments laid bare and the lobbying reaching a fever pitch, Aelyx felt a sense of detached clarity. He had no sentimental attachment to either claimant. His interest was purely strategic. A Viserys kingship seemed the most predictable, the most conducive to Skagos's continued hidden prosperity. But he also noted the undercurrents of resentment, the ambition of houses like Velaryon, the very precedent being set by this council that might be invoked, or defied, in future succession crises.
The Great Council of 101 AC was more than just a succession debate; it was a mirror reflecting the soul of the Targaryen dynasty and the realm it ruled – a realm built on dragonfire, bound by oaths, yet ever vulnerable to the timeless human frailties of ambition, pride, and fear. And Aelyx Velaryon, the Shadow King, watched it all, learning, calculating, and patiently preparing for the very, very long game. The whispers of a future "Dance of the Dragons" were but faint, distant drumbeats to him now, but he would be listening, always listening.